Summary: The first time Anne and D'Artagnan make love.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of Man in the Iron Mask

Rating: T+

Pairing: Anne/D'Artagnan

COMPARISION:

D'Artagnan gazed into the eyes of Anne as she lay beneath him; they were locked in a lovers embrace. Her skin was flushed, her cheeks a perfect rosy hue that he just had to kiss her. Anne had come to him with desire lighting her eyes. They had been coming perilously to falling into bed for months, knowing that their love had been growing ever stronger with stolen glances, secret touches, and hushed whispers. Pulling back from her, yet still remaining between her thighs, D'Artagnan once again marveled at how they had come to be together. She brought her hands up, her palms touching his chest, the heat of her lancing through him. He had no time to speak as she arched up and into him. Her lips gazed his jaw, her hips undulating bringing about another wave of passion to course through his blood.

Anne never wanted this night to end. Right now she was without title; she wasn't a Queen. She was merely a woman in love. Above her, still buried inside of her, was the man she loved; D'Artagnan, a loyal guard and a Musketeer. He, too, was stripped of rank. He was only her D'Artagnan. Anne moved her hips slowly again, wanting to savor the feel of him, memorize the way he molded to her body. "Move with me…" She gasped draping her arms over his shoulders, her nails digging into his back to spur him on. Anne brought her knees up higher. "Make this night seem as if it would never end." He kissed her then, his hands pressed into the bed at her sides. D'Artagnan levered himself up, sitting back on his haunches, and brought her astride his lap. She moaned resting her cheek against his mass of black hair.

D'Artagnan gripped Anne's hips, guiding her in a clockwise motion; slowly at first. He rested his chin to her shoulder committing each moment to memory for he knew he was not destined to have her in his bed ever again. Her skin was like silk; her body moved knowing what would make him moan in pleasure. "Oh, Anne…" D'Artagnan whispered her name over and over each time he placed a kiss to the crook of her neck. His heart filled with love with every motion her hips. She gathered his hair up, her fingers anchoring in his long strands. Anne passionately yanked his head back where she claimed his lips. She ground down into him harder, faster, and she kissed him in counterpoint to her motions. All of it dizzied D'Artagnan's mind. His body heated, burning hotter than before, and soon he would be falling back into the abyss of pleasure from whence he had just emerged.

Anne arched her back, breaking the kiss to gulp down air. Her body was alive with feeling, surrounded by him. He filled her completely, touching that secret bundle of nerves that ushered her to her climax in his arms. D'Artagnan took her to the bed beneath him once more, his manhood plunging into her faster and faster. They were striving for release. Once more she took his lips feeling the beginnings of her orgasm spiral out through her body. Anne screamed her release into D'Artagnan who drank down her cries. She cradled him with her body, her thighs locked over his hips keeping him inside of her for as long as she could.

D'Artagnan tried to keep his weight from crushing Anne, but his limbs defied him. He was losing strength, sapped of energy by her loving arms. He fell to her side, his head hitting the pillow. Easily she curled into him, her leg tangling with his, her head resting on his heaving chest. D'Artagnan gave no thought to pulling the silk sheet over them. He wanted to run his hand up and down her naked side while he could still feel her heart. Idly the tips of his fingers ran up and down her side, over the rise of her ribs, and the outside of her breast. D'Artagnan let his flesh be branded as her; always hers.

Anne listened to the thundering of his heart, felt every uneven breath he took as she lay at his side. Even before she came to him, to his bed this night, Anne had been falling in love with him every day. On days hens he had nothing to smile about, he could bring a light to her eyes. Then there were days when she sought solitude, only he dared to disrupt that. He would engage her in conversation when they were safely tucked away in a secret corner of the spacious garden on the palace grounds. Every single moment had been leading them here; leading them to each other's arms. "I have never known love such as this." Anne muttered placing a gentle kiss to his beating heart. It was known that no woman knew love until she had the love of a king. She had known the Kings love; it was cold as he did his duty trying to breed and heir upon her. No, Anne preferred the love she had with D'Artagnan. It was true, it was warm, and it gave her the strength she needed to survive.

"Does the King's love not compare?" D'Artagnan asked absent thought. He was in a haze, drunk from the taste of her. Where he thought she would stiffen in his arms, she only sighed. Anne moved from his side, and for a moment he feared she would leave him before the veil of night was to be lifted. When she moved to straddle his waist, he felt desire stir once more. Her look had not grown serious, but contemplative. "Did I ask something wrong?" D'Artagnan inquired; the fog clearing from his mind. It was true he had been at court for many years, but he served a Musketeer.

"No," Anne said placing her hands flat upon his well-muscled chest. "Most women would prefer the love of a King, but I," She leaned down to kiss his lips sweetly. "I prefer your love." Anne spoke from the heart, a heart that beat only for him. "You focus on me, on my needs. When you give pleasure, you give with all that you are." She sat up, but continued to speak, "The King takes, never gives. In my eyes, D'Artagnan, your loves rises higher than that of a King."

D'Artagnan brought his hands up, sliding them over her hips, up her flat abdomen, and up until the palms of his hands covered her perfect breasts. "Careful, you will inflate my ego." He jested, his fingers kneading her ample mounds to make her nipples stand once more. "I should not grow accustomed to the feel of you above me." He sighed and went to drop his hands, but she held them to her. At the simple gesture a small well of hope blossomed inside of him; hope that he would once more be taken between her thighs after this night was through.

"Your ego deserves inflation to go along with an obvious talent," Anne spoke freely as she had not known in years since being married to Louis XIII. "Grow accustomed," She soothed, "As I already have." The truth as in the acceptance of his touch to her body, the kisses she desired to steal long after the night was over. "What do we do when the veil of night is all but parted to bring the light of a new day?" She was terrified of having to return to the bed of the King after tasting all the delights D'Artagnan had to offer her. "How will I ever…"

D'Artagnan sat up and covered her trembling lips with his own. He could not hear her ask the question that plagued his mind as they lay together fresh from release. If he could keep her encased in his arms for yet another hour, he would have the memory of her to touch to balm the open wound in his heart. The kiss broke as his lungs screamed for oxygen. "One hour more, this I beg of you." D'Artagnan wrapped his arms around her waist, splaying his fingers on her back. He used her title, "My Queen, show me mercy and grant me more of your touch." Anne smiled gently at him without speaking. She tangled her fingers in his sweat slickened mass of hair, angling his head so they could once more fuse their lips together.

FIRST LIGHT OF DAWN:

Anne woke in bed, alone, sated. Opening her eyes, she saw D'Artagnan standing by the window; his back to the bed. She cast the light weight silk sheet aside, leaving the bed to go to him. Anne slipped her arms around hi snaked waist, resting her cheek on his shoulder blade. His strong hands covered hers. "Tell me…" She whispered placing a kiss to his soft skin. Then her eyes turned to the window seeing the first red tint of the coming day. Her heart sank because their night together would soon be over.

"I don't wish for the sun to rise," D'Artagnan muttered turning in her arms, turning from the coming light of dawn. "I wish for time to stay still so we might have…" Anne smiled sadly at him, her eyes halting his flow of words. Leaning into her, he kissed her lips as his hands rested on her hips. Instantly his skin heated for her, and her alone. "Tell me we have more time." He begged. She drew her hands up and over his shoulders. D'Artagnan gripped the back of her thighs, lifting her with ease bringing her woman's center against his rising desire. "Let us have more time."

"We have as much time as we need." Anne said locking her legs around his lean waist. She felt him respond. D'Artagnan braced her back against the wall, next to the window; the red tint covering the sky, signaling the ending of their night. Before they were forced to face the day she wanted him one more time, wanted the feel of him, above all she wanted the taste of him on her lips. If she was to greet the King upon his arrival she wanted to be branded with D'Artagnan's body. She just wanted him one more time.

THE END